Page 105 of Worth the Trip

Good.

“What flavor made you think this could actually work?”

“Sweet Hearth.”

“What’s in it?”

“Brown-sugar custard, cinnamon-roasted pecans, caramel. It came from Nana’s Sunday desserts. We sold out at our first community market before noon.”

“And you?”

“I cried in the supply tent.”

I laughed. “Happy?”

“Terrified. Selling out meant people wanted more.”

“Fair.”

“You want some?”

“Hershey, I drove all this way. Feed me.”

She took me back toward the display case and grabbed a gold tasting spoon.

“One bite.”

“I’m a grown man. Don’t ration my joy.”

“You have a whole tour left.”

“I can multitask.”

“You’re difficult.”

“You invited me.”

She scooped the ice cream and came around the counter, holding the spoon toward me.

I tasted it.

Brown sugar first. Caramel after. Pecans roasted enough to keep the sweetness in check.

I nodded slowly.

“That’s good.” Her face fell a fraction. I smiled. “I’m messing with you. That tastes like somebody’s Sunday.”

That got her.

“Exactly.”

“Then you did what you meant to do.”

Before she could answer, the bell over the entrance rang several times. A family came in. Then another. Then a youth team with enough children to change the whole temperature of the shop.

Two employees moved toward the registers.

Mason hurried from the kitchen. “Kayla called. Her son’s sick.”